


feel the static

by pkspsapphire



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Evens Month 2020, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Endless Waltz, fuck i dont know how to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:08:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25644037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pkspsapphire/pseuds/pkspsapphire
Summary: He blinks and finally moves his gaze over to the floor where Duo lays, his bangs fluttering lightly in the box fan’s breeze. The brunet neglects to respond at first, rolling over onto his stomach.“Quat,” he begins with a whine, “I know you’re a weirdo and, like, ultra-resistant to heat or whatever, but it’s still hot as shit in here, and I think I’m dying.”
Relationships: Duo Maxwell/Quatre Raberba Winner
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	feel the static

**Author's Note:**

> 'twas for user katopiyo but ended up being an evens month thing. first time writing them. care them

Yesterday was activity, today is rest; not only because of the heavy wetness of Singapore’s humidity sinking into their bones, but because they simply had no plans for the day. Quatre fanned himself lazily, looking up at nothing in particular, while Duo sat placidly on the tiles and enjoyed the steady flow from the box fan in front of him. The leather of the couch cushions Quatre was resting on would be uncomfortable if not for the myriad of other fans turned on around the house, busy fighting off the blanketing heat. Not a word had been spoken for the whole afternoon while the two boys basked in each other’s company.

“Mmngh,” came Duo’s disgruntled mumble from the floor, promptly before he flopped dramatically backwards to the tiles, stealing an upside-down glance at his friend lazing on the couch. The blond pauses in his ministrations before snorting in amusement.

“S’there something you wanted to say, Duo?” He blinks and finally moves his gaze over to the floor where Duo lays, his bangs fluttering lightly in the box fan’s breeze. The brunet neglects to respond at first, rolling over onto his stomach.

“Quat,” he begins with a whine, “I know you’re a weirdo and, like, ultra-resistant to heat or whatever, but it’s still hot as shit in here, and I think I’m dying.” Duo punctuates his declaration with a lengthy groan, reaching out towards the couch, then weakly dropping his arm onto the tiles. His theatrics are rewarded by the sound of Quatre giggling from afar, quickly recovering and clearing his throat.

“Duo,” the blond puts on his most convincing fake-authoritative tone, “stop complaining before I throw you in the pool.” He’s trying  _ really _ hard not to collapse into snickers again, and Duo can tell, and there’s an idea worming its way to the front of his brain now, and screw it all. He sighs in mock defeat, watching Quatre’s expression turn curious while Duo hoists himself up to kneel on the tile.

“That’s assuming I’ll go easy,” he snarks in response, “or that you can beat me when I fight back.” Duo’s just teasing now, egging Quatre on, his voice breezy as the blond slows down fanning himself. There’s something in his eyes that flashes in response to Duo’s challenge, but keeps his face neutral if only for his eyebrow raised in query. At this, Duo raises himself into a crouch, hands forward and poised like claws, taking playful steps towards where his friend lays on the couch.

“Duo,” Quatre warns, yet mirth seeps into his tone, “if you’re going to force my hand--” his own fearful squeal cuts him off as Duo pounces (careful not to actually hurt Quatre despite the couch being able to fit two people side-by-side) and traps the blond under him, going for just harassing him momentarily, and hearing Quatre’s laugh bubbling up only encourages Duo’s antics. He faux-attacks Quatre’s sides with nimble fingers, all while the blond weakly attempts throwing him off, and Duo can feel joyous laughter rising in his chest as well; now their combined hysterics echo through the abode, their antics settling into the corners and crannies to make its home there.

Breathless, carefree, it takes the boys a couple moments to settle down, and Duo quiets down first, if only to get a fleeting glance at Quatre’s joyful expression; it’s something Duo finds himself actively yearning for, something he thinks about more often than he’d admit (especially to himself) (he already has). His wish is granted when he sees his friend’s eyes crinkling in laughter, shoulders shaking with unadulterated glee; Duo can feel the rumbles of Quatre’s chest under his own body weight as he relishes the sound of the blond quieting down to a giggle. A thought strikes him, something he can’t necessarily put into words until he feels his hand lifting and gently brushing the back of it to Quatre’s cheek, feather-light but not without purpose. This is what brings the blond back to Earth, teal gaze snapping to Duo’s violet, and suddenly the distance isn’t far enough yet the brunet can’t make himself tumble off of Quatre now. Not while he doesn’t have a clear answer to why his hand is laid softly to Quatre’s cheek.

“Duo,” the blond starts, expecting a withdrawal (not wanting it, necessarily, just expecting it) and his cheeks begin dusting pink when he’s proved otherwise. Duo neglects to respond at first, moving his hand to trace Quatre’s face, whose eyelashes flutter in response (and whose breath seems to stall as well). 

“Soft,” the brunet muses under his breath, just loud enough for the other party to hear. Duo can feel Quatre’s face warm up under the soft ministrations of his hand, and he’s far past thinking of excuses or justifications for this, this  _ thing  _ that’s consumed his conscience, made him tenderly stroke his best friend’s face as if they were lovers. Maybe that’s what he wants them to be, though the word seems strong, and it hits him that maybe it’s too weak--not enough to describe how he’s felt. How would he know? All his heat-addled brain would supply for him is how pretty Quatre looks, and how perfectly his hand fits to cup his face upon turning his palm to it. Now the blonde takes in a stuttering breath, and Duo feels a warmth on his own face--he registers it as Quatre’s hand--and instantly retracts his own hand as if he’s touched a hot iron, and buries his face in Quatre’s chest. Duo can feel the telltale  _ thumpthumpthump  _ of a racing heart, one that isn’t his, and he picks up the sound of a breathy chuckle.

“I think now’s getting a bit late to be embarrassed,” Quatre starts, amusement seeping into his tone, “and I was just about to tell you my skincare routine.”

“Huh?” Duo lifts his head incredulously, his questioning gaze resting on Quatre’s amused (yet still pink from getting flustered) expression, and he realizes he’s been baited into meeting Quatre’s eyes again. The blond’s smug smirk grows as that fact dawns on Duo’s face.

“Made you look,” Quatre teases, but his expression softens before he pauses, “I liked the attention.” His face begins to burn at the admission, but his gaze remains steady on Duo’s face. There’s a lot more he feels he could say, but he doesn’t want to be faced with another bout of Duo’s regressive antics, trying to backtrack and run from things he says, as if he’s afraid of the response. Still, he tentatively raises his hand to mirror Duo’s from earlier and cup the brunet’s cheek. His friend subconsciously leans into Quatre’s touch, and  _ boy _ , Quatre feels heat pool right in his chest up to his face, some feeling overflowing, something he possibly can’t name right now. He’s almost lost entirely in his thoughts when he jumps slightly at the sound of Duo’s uncharacteristically soft voice.

“Must be the heat,” he murmurs, and they both know that’s not it, there’s something there, something you could reach out and touch if you wanted, but Duo’s holding back and Quatre’s not going to force him. What happens is they continue to sit there and rest, Duo eventually laying back down on Quatre’s chest, absentmindedly grabbing at the others’ hand, and they know they have to talk eventually, but not now. Now, they can sink in each other’s company, bask in the light shining on their skin, and wait another day.


End file.
